


The Weight of Memory

by FuzzyCrayon



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Happy endings guaranteed, I don't know how to tag this fic, Multi, OT3, Pain first, alive!Marco
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:58:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2358740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuzzyCrayon/pseuds/FuzzyCrayon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean and Marco can't help but wonder how long it will take you to remember</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking Up

The first time you emerged from the blackness, you felt as if you’d slept for a thousand lifetimes. Your eyes stung, burned by the morning light filtering through thin rafters. Your head weighed a ton; your limbs were stiff from disuse. You tried to move, to shake some life back into your battered body but couldn’t find the strength. Squinting, you surveyed your surroundings. It was hard to place yourself; your mind was still clouded and you soon realized that the haze surrounding you came from more than just your tired eyes. A long white sheet of gossamer fabric surrounded you, billowing softly, coming into focus the longer you stared. 

The longer you stayed awake, desperate to understand just where you were, the more aware you became of the throbbing pain blossoming in your skull. It pulsed rapidly, agonizing waves rolling from the back of your head through your temples. Your ears rang, your eyes teared up and you groaned quietly, tormented by the building pressure. 

In the midst of your pain you noticed an area of the curtain surrounding you darkened, before the sheet was pulled back relieving a masculine figure. Through the pain you noticed freckled skin, chocolate eyes wide with relief and shock. The figure began moving its lips, the warm notes of its voice rolling over you, soothing you, but magnifying the pain in your head.

“Hurts....” you managed to gasp out, throat dry and aflame. Your voice sounded foreign and nearly unintelligible to your own ears. The figure came closer, sliding a warm, large hand beneath your head to lift it slightly, and with the utmost care. Porcelain met your lips, you opened them in response as a tiny sip of blessedly cool water met your tongue. It soothed your burning throat, making it easier for you to breathe, relieving a tiny bit of your suffering.

“I’m tired,” you croaked, clearer now, wincing as you were laid back down, the movement jarring your aching head. 

“Then go back to sleep,” the voice commanded gently in your ear and you felt soft, warm pressure against your forehead. _A kiss,_ you noted before closing your eyes and obeying the owner of that sweet voice.

* * *

The second time you awoke, the pain was only a whisper of its former intensity. This time, though the light still burned your eyes and your body still ached with stiffness, the pain in your head was quieter, easier to ignore. Your eyes shifted frantically, taking in your surroundings while you tried to piece together just how you ended up in such a bizarre situation. You tried to lift yourself up, settling on your shaking elbows to take in more of the room. The bed you laid in was stark white, from its sheets to its painted metal frame. The curtain hung just the same, though the room was much darker this time, illuminated by the orange glow of a few flickering candles. _The infirmary?_ How did you get here? What happened to you? Why were you in so much _pain_? The harder you thought, the more your headache intensified. You quickly abandoned your inquiry, deciding to focus on getting the blood flowing to the rest of your body. You laid back down, turning your neck slightly, curling your fingers. 

“Is anyone there?” You heard a faint gasp in response, the scrape of a chair, rapidly approaching footsteps. The curtain was ripped back, and you were greeted by the gloriously happy face of one Hanji Zoe. 

“(Y/N)!” She shouted, looking apologetic when you winced at the volume of her voice. “You’re awake,” she continued, “That’s wonderful. You really had us worried you know?” You and Hanji were extraordinarily close for a cadet and a superior officer. You’d been assigned as her assistant by Commander Erwin himself and after months of working together, you had a wonderful relationship. Hanji continued prattling on, barely taking a breath between sentences. 

“What- What happened? To me, I mean.” She stopped speaking abruptly, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. 

“You mean you don’t remember?” You shook your head. “Well,” she said, “You had a bit of an, um, _accident_ during training and you sustained a pretty serious head injury. You were already unconscious when you were brought into the infirmary.”

“So I made a clumsy mistake,” you smiled, trying to laugh off the seriousness of your situation, “How long have I been in here? A few days?”

“(Y/N),” Hanji’s eyes were soft, full of sympathy, “You’ve been in a coma for almost three months,” she continued as panic began creeping its way up your chest, “You cracked your skull and needed stitches in the back of your head.”

“T-three months?!” You croaked, voice thick with unshed tears. You brought your hand up to caress the scar tissue at the base of your skull; the hair around it was short, the doctors must have shaved it when they stitched you up. You hissed in pain, having applied too much pressure to the tender spot. 

“You sustained quite a few injuries. Cracked ribs, sprains in your neck and back. For the first month you were black and blue all over.”

You tried your best not to cry, but the thought of having missed out on so much of your life, the fact that you had virtually no memory of how you got here, well, deeply unsettled you. Hanji sat with you, stroking your hair until your sobbing ceased. Once you calmed, she lifted your back up, propping you in an upright position against your pillows.

“T-thanks,” you mumbled, snot thickening your voice and tears drying on your cheeks. Hanji smiled at you, pushing your hair behind your ears, “You must be hungry huh? I’ll go get you something to eat; it’s dinner time now.” She must have read the fear on your face because she quickly added, “Don’t worry, (Y/N), a little memory loss is to be expected with these kinds of injuries.” 

You nodded, trying to focus on the positive: you had survived what had evidently been a horrible accident. 

“Everyone will be happy to hear you’re awake, especially Jean and Marco.” 

You frowned, “Why would it matter to them?” Hanji didn’t answer you immediately, so you asked again, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that settled in your gut at Hanji’s pitiful expression. 

“They, ugh, they brought you in,” was all she said, before leaving your side in search of food and the infirmary’s attending physician.

* * *

The next morning you were awoken by what you could only describe as a rather heated argument. Whoever was fighting (their voices sounded masculine), were evidently furious with one another. You couldn’t make out what they were saying, even as their voices continued to rise in volume. The pair continue their heated debate until a third, feminine voice interjected. She was obviously a woman in a position of authority, because the fight stopped immediately. And with that, the door to the infirmary swung open, revealing Hanji, Jean Kirstein and Marco Bodt.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” Hanji smiled, making her way over to your bed. You returned the smile, thanking her graciously when she helped to prop you up again. After the physician checked your vitals last night, he assured you that you should have no problem regaining your strength and the use of your limbs. However, that battle would be a hard one; you were facing weeks of physical therapy, and it would be a tremendous amount of time before you even got close to your maneuver gear. Setbacks aside, you were relieved just knowing you’d be able to leave this bed soon enough. 

As far as your missing memories went, well, the doctor hadn’t made any promises. 

“Sleep well?” Hanji asked, patting your head as you nodded in response. “The boys here thought they’d bring you breakfast.” Food. Oh you were definitely happy to see Jean and Marco now. Even after finishing your dinner last night, you still felt completely famished. You turned your head as best you could to observe the young men. Marco smiled at you over a tray of piping hot food, looking hopeful, though the longer you stared at him, the more his expression began to falter. Jean, on the other hand, looked positively miserable, frowning fiercely at the floor, the wall, the back of Marco’s head, anywhere but at you. 

“T-Thanks,” you stuttered, as Marco stepped forward to set the tray over your lap. You practically began drooling as the aroma reached you. “Um, thanks for everything I mean, Hanji said you two found me.”

“Found you?!” Jean yelled, finally mustering up the courage to look at you. His expression was wild, wide open and vulnerable. To be honest, it scared the daylights out of you. Those glowing amber eyes practically burned right through you, piercing something within you that you couldn’t name. “Look, (Y/N), it’s our fau-”

“-You’re welcome!” Marco chirped, eyes shifting frantically at Jean’s loud scoff. “We’re just glad you’re okay.” He stepped forward then, raising his hand to brush your hair out of your face. He stopped before he reached you, however, snatching his hand back with such force, it was as if he’d been burned. He didn’t move to touch you again, and what struck you most was how disappointed you were. And that voice, how comforted you were by that voice. 

You studied his face. It was boyish, youthful, handsome. Like Jean, Marco too had striking eyes; a strangely familiar deep brown contrasting beautifully with his pale skin. You took note of his freckles, the blush blooming on his dimpled cheeks. 

Your heart was crashing wildly in your chest. Your head began to ache again. Staring at Jean and Marco, you remembered flashes of green, amber eyes wide with terror, tears sliding down freckled cheeks, the forest floor- 

Terrified. You were terrified. 

Hanji seemed to sense your unrest, “Why don’t you eat something, (Y/N).” And just like that, the spell was broken and the roaring pain in your head dulled, quieted. 

“Right. Right. Well, thanks again. Sounds like I would have been in big trouble without your help,” you couldn’t look at anyone, horrified at the thought of facing another episode like the one Hanji just freed you from. Slowly, you lifted your weakened arm to grasp your silverware. 

“Um, do you need help or something?” Jean grumbled, frown still etched on his long face. 

“I’ve got it,” you lifted the fork to your lips slowly, trying your best to ignore the pronounced tremor of your hand. 

“Well, cadets, I think (Y/N) has had enough excitement for today,” Hanji interjected, much to your relief. 

“Get well,” Marco murmured, sparing you one last lingering glance that sent something akin to panic blooming through your chest. At the same time, the ache was sweet, familiar, and definitely something you didn’t want to confront. His full lips quirked up slightly, offering you a bittersweet smile before Marco turned from you.

Jean said nothing. Only turned to exit the infirmary before stopping suddenly, pivoting on his heels and marching towards you like a man possessed. He grasped your free hand in his, lifting it gently in the cradle of his calloused palm. He turned your hand in his, chapped lips meeting your palm so tenderly, it was as if you were made of glass. After pressing another kiss to its back, Jean lowered your hand to the bed and left without a word. 

Marco followed, looking hurt and, ultimately, furious. 

The panic was back. It had blossomed tenfold. 

The boys excited the infirmary, as Marco pulled the door shut behind him. However, it didn’t close fully and groaned softly on its hinges, opening enough for you to hear tidbits of another brewing argument. _So Jean and Marco were the ones fighting earlier._ You ceased eating, straining to listen. 

“This is ridiculous! We should just tell her-” Jean. That was definitely Jean. 

“You know we can’t do that!” Marco spoke now, “The doctor said it was best for her to remember on her own.”

“For fuck’s sake, Marco, she has no idea what happened to her! She doesn’t know who we are. This is insane, I’m gonna tell her.”

“How much more pain do you think she needs?” You didn’t hear any more after that. 

“Tell me what?” you asked frantically, desperate to gain some understanding, “Tell me what?!” 

“Nothing”- Hanji cooed, helping you to lift a glass of water to your lips. You always hated the feeling of being lied to.


	2. Remembering You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weeks after your accident, and you still don't have a clue.

“Amazing job today, Cadet (Y/N),” Charlotte, a nurse in the Scouting Legion, congratulated you. You smiled graciously, not trusting your voice because physical therapy usually left you pretty winded. In the weeks that followed your awakening, you’d begun a rigorous rehabilitation program. At first the exercises were simple; you worked on the dexterity of your fingers, on turning your head, lifting and lowering your appendages. At the start of it all, everything had seemed so promising. And despite your fears, hope infected you, lifting you out of your suffering. 

However, learning to walk again caused your faith to falter. Hanji was always there to cheer you on, as were Krista, Sasha, Bertholdt, Armin, Eren, hell, even Mikasa, who you’d never truly grown close to, often came to check on your progress. Most of the time you welcomed their warmth; it was comforting to know that you weren’t alone. 

Other days, like today in particular, you felt ashamed for so many of your friends to see you so incapable. Just minutes ago, as you tried your best to walk alone in between two balance bars, you felt that shame creep up again. You gripped the railings with all the strength you could muster, red-faced and sweating, panting loudly from the effort. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t take more than a few steps without stumbling, gasping wildly for breath like you were being asphyxiated. After what felt like the millionth failed attempt, Charlotte suggested you take a break.

“-No,no,” you argued, “I can keep going.”

“Why are you so damn stubborn,” Reiner grunted, coming over to lift you up from your place between the handrails. “You’re doing really good kid, don’t push it.” You frowned, going from annoyed to downright humiliated when Reiner scooped you up, cradling you in his brawny arms like some kind of oversized baby. Without effort he carried you across the room, depositing you in the wheelchair the doctors provided to ease your transition. You hated the finality in Reiner’s voice; you were always convinced that if you pushed yourself a little bit harder, just tried one more time, you’d regain everything you lost.

The first time you’d left the infirmary, your “unveiling” as you liked to call it, Sasha wheeled you into the mess hall. All chatter stopped immediately as the weight of hundreds of eyes settled on your body. Of course, you were congratulated; everyone was “Glad you were okay,” or “Happy to see you,” but you wanted to slink back into your chair, to sink down onto the floor and simply disappear. But you were a soldier, and soldiers stand their ground. 

It was during your “unveiling” that you practically banished Jean and Marco from your company. 

After their first visit, that fateful morning weeks ago, the pair could often be found hovering around the infirmary. Most of the time things with them felt the same; horribly awkward and unnerving. Marco did most of the talking, trying his best to lift your spirits, despite the fact that you practically glowered at him any time he came too close. Jean on the other hand, well Jean almost never came near you. In fact, he seemed to loathe being in your presence. And try as you might, you couldn’t forget that kiss, the way you felt his lips ghosting over your skin for days after he’d pressed them to your palm. Why had he done it? Why had he come so near? Why did he and Marco continue come around, looking so hopeless, so utterly lost?

Which isn’t to say you disliked their company. In fact, there’s nothing you wanted more than to feel Jean’s lips again, and Marco’s too. And though you were sure it was your coldness, your near cruelty that kept them away, inside you were practically screaming _come closer._ You fought the urge to taste those lips, felt as if you knew what they tasted like already. But you couldn’t know; there’s no way you could have known. They were your comrades, nothing more. It’s not like your friends would keep something like this from you...

Sometimes after they’d leave you, your headaches would start up again, aching something awful. When the pain hit you’d squeeze your eyes shut, press your fingers to your temples and try your best not to fall sick from the swirls of images racing through your brain. Tears welled in your eyes, _oh no,_ you’d think, _not again._

  
_You saw splintered wood, dark eyes brimming with tears, beautiful stretches of freckled skin, felt the warmth of hands much larger than your own, heard whispered ‘I love you’s,’ and so many other things you couldn’t name, couldn’t begin to understand. I don’t want this,_ you wanted to cry, _I don’t want this at all._

* * *

  
It was the visions that caused you to snap that day in the cafeteria, your first day out of the infirmary, the day you broke two hearts you swore hadn’t belonged to you in the first place. As Sasha wheeled you to the closest table your friends were quick to flock to you, eager to help in any way they could. Naturally Marco and Jean came too, and you sat between them at everyone’s insistence. Both were careful not to touch you, leaving a healthy amount of space on either side of your body. Like always, Connie started goofing off, and Marco threw his head back to laugh sliding his gloriously soft hand over your own on the tabletop. You jerked back, eyes wide, as more visions assaulted you: _The blur of trees rushing past, the thrill of soaring through the air, Jean taunting you, urging you faster._

Marco stopped laughing immediately, looking down at you with hurt written all over his handsome face. 

Jean, sensing your discomfort, leaned down to whisper “Everything’s all right,” in your ear.

“I’m sorry (Y/N),” Marco murmured, “I don’t know what I was thinking.” He scooted further away from you. Before you had a chance to respond, Jean gripped your chin in his hand, turning your face towards his; you thought about Marco’s hair, the impossible softness of his lips, the scar on Jean’s back he’d gotten after falling out of a tree as a child. _How the **fuck** do I know any of this?! _ The pain in your head surged.

“What do you see?” Jean demanded, face set with grim determination. You gaped at him, desperate understand, desperate to escape his grasp, to push yourself closer, to run away and cry and never confront this confusion again. 

“Jean!” Marco yelled, “Cut it out!”

That brought you back to your senses. You tugged yourself free from Jean’s loose grip, ripping yourself away with such force, you toppled out of your wheelchair. Sprawled on the floor, your heart thumping like a caught rabbit, you couldn’t stop the flow of tears, and gasped for breath to regain your sense of equilibrium.

“Stay the fuck away from me, both of you!” Marco and Jean both jumped out of their chairs to help you, but froze when you yelled. “I mean it,” you continued, “You can’t come near me and you sure as hell can’t touch me.” What happened after that was a blur, someone, Bertholdt you think, helped you into your wheelchair and removed you from the mess hall without missing a beat. 

Before you left, you spared the boys a final glance. Marco was red-faced, glaring at the floor with one hand fiercely gripping the front of his shirt. Jean looked miserable and horribly guilty and was quick to rub the back of his hand across the wet line on his cheek. 

That was three weeks ago. You didn’t like to think about it.

You were carrying all of this emotional weight with you wherever you went. With company, you felt suffocated by concern (and, sometimes, pity). Alone you were horribly lost, unable to lean on anyone to distract you from the debilitating visions. And the guilt; don’t even get you started on the guilt. Every time you saw Marco or Jean (which was rare, they tended to avoid you like the plague) your emotions overflowed. Ultimately, you were tormented by the pain in those expressive eyes. It was too much, all of it. 

So when Charlotte dismissed you from therapy, causing another wave of desperation to roll over you, and after Reiner wheeled you to Hanji’s office, you decided the only way you were going to truly get better was to confront your pain; both physical and emotional. The doctor’s had yet to tell you how you’d truly been injured because “They best way for you to regain your memories would be to do so _organically,_ ” whatever that meant. 

“Later (Y/N),” Reiner grunted, turning and exiting Hanji’s office. She was busy pouring over a proposal for more Titan experiments, her desire for knowledge was truly bordering on mania at this point. 

“Hanji...” she hummed to let you know she was listening, “How did I end up like this?”

She looked up from her papers, “(Y/N),” she sighed, “You already know the answer to that, you were injured during a training exercise.” She started scribblings animatedly again after that, sure that you wouldn’t continue your line of questioning. This wasn’t the first time you asked for the full story. 

“Would you just tell me the truth!” You yelled, immediately feeling guilty for unleashing your aggression on the one person who had helped you the most. Taking a deep breath, you continued, “Please. I know... I know what the doctor’s said about me remembering on my own, but it’s been over a month and- Hanji, I seriously can’t take this anymore. It feels like I’m going crazy.”

Hanji rose, scooting her chair to sit directly in front of you and hold your hands between hers. She looked much older than she ever had to you before, sympathetic and somehow motherly. “I know you’re scared, but this is for your own good.” 

“I know that, but it feels like everyone is keeping some huge secret from me. And every time I’m alone I get those awful headaches.” Hanji was the only one you’d told about the visions; she insisted that they were bits of your lost memories but that seemed impossible; forgetting the accident was one thing, but everything else you’d seen....That couldn’t possibly have been your life. 

“This is about what you’ve been seeing,” Hanji squeezed your hands tighter, “I know you’re scared, but you should try to stop running from this. What triggers them?”

“Umm... They happen sometimes when I’m alone, or if I try too hard to think about the day of the accident. I remember strapping up my gear and heading out to the forest, but after that, nothing. And I have them after....” you trailed off, reluctant to talk about your troubles with Jean and Marco.

“After?” Hanji pressed you to continue, looking expectant. 

“After I’m with Jean and Marco. Especially if one of them bumps into me or something.” You felt your cheeks heating up and heart quicken at just the thought of the two handsome young men. Then you remembered their faced that last time you spoke to them, which effectively ended your little case of the butterflies. 

“Well then talk to them,” Hanji urged, “You’re a brave girl, you can do it.”

“I don’t want to!” You interjected, still ashamed by the way you treated them, “I can’t Hanji, I can’t. I mean, you’re not the first person to suggest this-”

“-(Y/N),” Hanji interrupted, “If I tell you something, do you promise to speak to Marco or Jean after you leave my office? Preferably both of them?”

“I... I promise,” you were nervous, of course, but the relief you felt at finally being given some information overweighed that fear. Hanji pulled back, releasing your hands and taking a long look at you. After what felt like an eternity, she sighed. 

“You, Jean, and Marco were _involved_ ,” she said, “Romantically, I mean.” Hanji paused, waiting for you to speak up, or at least close your mouth. The information shocked you into silence, even more so when Hanji added, “You’ve been together publicly since your eighteenth birthday, but I imagine you must have been a trio since your trainee days.” 

“Hanji my twenty-first birthday is in like a month.”

“I know”

“So we’ve been together-”

“-For quite a while I imagine.”

“Well.... No wonder everyone’s been acting so weird,” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood, “I thought everyone was trying to play cupid or something.” Hanji smiled, humoring you before calling Moblit over to send for Marco and Jean. “Hanji!” You shreiked, “I’m not ready yet, at least give me some time to think about all this.”

“No can do, (Y/N),” she smiled, “A deal’s a deal.”

They arrived in ten minutes, ten minutes that felt like ten seconds. Not enough time for you to calm down, collect your thoughts or even begin to process how you felt about this big reveal Your mouth was dry; your heart hammered in your chest. You could hear their voices and footsteps echoing down the hallway as they approached. Once the door swung open, and the two caught sight of you, their expressions went from mildly confused to hopeful, to terrified and back again. 

“Boys!” Hanji rose from her chair to usher them into the room, “(Y/N) here wants to talk to you so I’ll be giving you all some time alone.” Before anyone had a chance to interject, she was out of the room and shutting the door. 

“Umm... Hi,” you mumbled lamely, trying to muster the courage to look them in the eye. Both of them were slightly flushed and covered in dirt. They must have been sparring; sweat ran down their necks and over their collarbones. Both had abandoned their military issued jackets, and had their white button down’s rolled up to their elbows. You cleared your throat, and decided that the best way to start the conversation would be to get straight to the point:

“Hanji told me,” Jean and Marco stood still, neither daring to come closer to you, “About us, I mean. I still don’t remember exactly, but I know at least, so that’s something.”

“And the accident?” Marco was the first to speak up, taking the tiniest step closer to you. You wanted him to wrap you up in his strong arms, to cradle you against his broad chest and tell you all about everything that you’d forgotten. 

You wanted him to stay the hell away from you. 

With Jean, it was the same. How could you ever describe the sensation of wanting to be comforted by a stranger? 

“Still nothing. But I was hoping you could help me with that.”

“I thought you didn’t want us anywhere near you.” Jean finally decided to speak up, marching over to you and crouching over your chair, his hands perched on your armrests. Marco looked absolutely horrified, but didn’t argue what with Jean said. Steeling your nerves, you glanced up into those narrowed amber eyes, noticing the dirt smeared across his cheek, fighting the urge to touch that bizarre two-toned hair. 

“I know. I’m sorry, really, I can’t imagine how hard this has been on both of you.” Jean’s face softened as Marco approached the two of you.

“Please don’t apologize,” Marco began, “You must be so scared.” You nodded slowly, feeling your cheeks heat up the longer the men stared. “- And confused...” Marco trailed off sitting at the edge of Hanji’s abandoned desk chair. Their forgiveness was just what you needed to continue your explanation; you told them all about the visions, about the way your mind reacted to their touch. 

“So you do remember us?” Jean asked, smiling at you for the first time since you woke up. Marco’s puppy eyes were filled with hope as he flashed his pearly teeth and dimples. 

“I guess? No... Sort of?” You tried to ignore the way their smiles fell, “But I think I could, with your help.” 

Marco spoke up first, “You want us to tell you about the accident? Because the Hanji made us promise-”

“-No,” you interrupted, “No, I really feel like I _can_ remember.” You shifted in your wheelchair, embarrassed to continue. “I just need to touch you,” their faces turned red at that, “I mean! I need to hold your hands or something.” You brought your hands up to cover your burning face. 

“Okay,” Jean agreed, Marco nodded his consent as well. You reached for Marco’s hand first but he pulled away; you tried to ignore how much his action stung; you could only imagine what it had been like for them these past few weeks. 

“But first, (Y/N),” Marco began, “We’re so, so sorry about what happened. It’s our fault, (Y/N), everything that’s happened to you is our fault.” You tried to ignore the panic that confession incited. Silently, you nodded, turning both of your hands palm up so Jean and Marco could lace their fingers with yours. The first touch of their skin against yours made you recoil.

Predictably, the headache began to brew, and you shut your eyes, groaning softly as the pain grew. Both boys tightened their hold on your fingers, one of them even placed a tentative hand on your knee.

“Don’t fight it,” Jean spoke softly. You took a deep breath and listened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Answers are coming, I promise!


	3. I Never Meant to Cause You Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Answers.

_You hummed happily, sliding your hands up over your knees before carding your hands through the hot water of your bubble bath. As a soldier, relaxation time like this was a rare luxury and you planned to take full advantage of this blissful break._

_“Is it too hot?” Jean asked, before stepping over the rim of the tub sit before you. You’d caught of glimpse of his deliciously muscled legs before closing your eyes and leaning back onto Marco, who had you trapped between his thighs. Once your head met his chest, he wrapped an arm loosely around your stomach, thumb smoothing soothing circles onto the soft skin of your stomach._

_“No, it’s perfect,” you finally answered, keeping your eyes closed as you felt Jean scoot forward to tug both you and Marco’s legs over his hips. When Jean started to gently massages the muscles of your calves, and you felt Marco’s lips trace sweet little lines over the curves of your shoulders, you were damn near convinced you were in heaven._

_“Everything’s perfect,” you assured them, smiling sweetly as Jean’s fingers began sneaking up your inner thighs and Marco’s large hands moved to cradle your breasts and...  
_  
“-What is it, (Y/N), what do you see?” Jean interrupted, pulling you straight out of your delicious memory and back into the infirmary.

Okay, so as it turned out, you had absolutely no control over what you could remember. Your visions proved impossible to control, spanning from your childhood to your years in the military. 

“Why is your face all red?” He smiled roguishly at you, almost as if he knew just what it was you’d been remembering. You two shared a cot, both of you laying side by side while Jean kept one strong arm wrapped firmly around your shoulder. His fingers brushed gently over the fabric covering your upper arm as he leaned in to nuzzle the side of your jaw. The sensation caused you to shiver. 

“I was just remembering that one time we all, ugh, went swimming! Yeah...”

Jean snorted, looking unconvinced but didn’t press the matter further. It had been nearly a month since the night in Hanji’s office. You, Jean and Marco now spent a great deal of time together, something they were clearly over the moon about. Both boys were extremely careful not to push you too far; they kept their touches light and gentle, never straying too far from neutral territories, like your arms and hands. Just this morning Jean had accompanied you to yet another physical therapy session, before helping you make your way back to the infirmary to rest. He looked positively gleeful when you invited him to lie with you, eager to help you in any way that he could. 

You’d spent a great deal of time trying to remember what you could about your life before the accident, and now that you had become somewhat used to riding the waves of images, the visions were nowhere near as violent as they used to be. In fact they were largely positive, little snippets of your life with Jean and Marco. How you managed to remember everything and everyone else so clearly would always remain a mystery to you, from what you’d come to understand in this month is that Marco and Jean had been the two most important things in your life. So ultimately, the memories were sweet, you enjoyed them, but they weren’t even the least bit informative. 

“Okay, okay, you little liar,” he teased, pulling his arm away from you and hopping off the bed, “We have to get going anyway, Marco should be finishing up his stable duty.”

You frowned, not liking being called out, but decided not to comment on the matter; you weren’t too keen on sharing this particular vision just yet. You propped yourself up as best you could and swung your legs over the edge of the bed. Jean stepped forward, allowing you to grip his upper arms and heave yourself forward, ready to catch you should your legs fail. You kept the visions at bay by sheer force of will, pouring all of your focus into moving your lower body. You took as many steps as you could with his help, before once again plopping yourself down into your chair. 

With that, Jean began wheeling you out towards the stables. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts you didn’t realize you were outside until you felt the ground beneath your chair grow rough. Jean wheeled you along the dirt path in silence, steering you towards across the grounds and towards Marco. 

It was perfect timing, really; you watched the door to the stables swing open, revealing one Marco Bodt in all his freckled glory. His uniform shirt was gray with dust, his pants had streaks of dirt lining the front and sides of his thighs, making it clear that he’d been wiping his hands on the bleached fabric. His smile was blinding, wide and genuine and you couldn’t help but return it with a shy one of your own. 

“Hey beautiful,” he cooed, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on your forehead _\--You saw Jean laying beside you in bed, smiling sleepily before leaning over to brush your hair out of your face-_

“--How was physical therapy?” Before you had a chance to respond Jean spoke for you, regaling Marco with tales of your progress, praising your strength, your diligence, your bravery. You tuned him out as best you could, embarrassed by his attention despite the fact that you craved it so completely. The pair continued to discuss your treatment plan, wheeling you further towards the edge of the forest. 

“Where are we going?” You interrupted, trying to figure out how the boys planned to push your chair through the undergrowth. 

“Well, (Y/N),” Marco began, “A few days ago Jean and I stumbled on a small river out here and I sort of had an idea.” You looked up at him expectantly, yelping in surprise when Jean scooped you from your chair like a princess and began trudging through the shaded woods. You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning your head onto his chest to feel the vibrations of his soft laughter. Closing your eyes, you swam lightly through your memories, having mastered the ability of allowing the images to simply roll through you. The visions stopped relatively quickly, considering just how much physical contact you had with Jean. He continued forward, cradling you against his chest while Marco stepped beside you.

“I really think this will help you,” he continued, watching your face as you surveyed your surroundings. You smiled at the sight of sun peeking through the trees, comforted by the way the light shone in patches against Jean and Marco’s faces. You thought about the way the wind would whip through your hair when you finally got to use your gear again. You doctor’s hadn’t made any promises in terms of time, but you were definitely getting better, and for now that was enough. The boys continued forward before stopping at a small fork in the road, turning left and promptly marching directly off path. Marco jogged up ahead, jostling around what appeared to be a wall of plant life, before pulling the greenery aside. 

He held the makeshift door open for Jean, who carefully steered your body through the mess of leaves and vines. Once he was clear, you shook your hair from your face, eyes wide and jaw hanging open. You gasped softly, overwhelmed by the natural beauty surrounding you.

The clearing was small, and still heavily shaded by a dense canopy of trees. Its grass was a rich, deep green, nearly reaching the tops of Jean’s knees. Wildflowers sprouted without pattern in all directions, their colors ranging from bright yellows, to pinks, to the softest of blues.

You heard the water before you saw it, listening intently to the soft kiss of the current against stones. Jean set your legs down, giving you a second to stand on your own, knowing just how important it was to you to be able to do so. 

“Do you like it?” Marco asked, as he bent to wrap one arm around your waist and help you walk forward. You couldn’t find the words to respond, nodding firmly at him as he moved you towards the glistening water of the river that cut through the clearing’s center. When you reached the water’s edge, Marco help you to lean against a large, dry stone there, before plopping into the grass to tug your boots from your feet. 

“We’re going in?” You were delighted, the water looked cool and clear and you were eager to wade through its depths. 

“Of course we are,” Jean said, his answering smile so bright you thought it might blind you. He unbuttoned his white uniform shirt before tearing his black undershirt over his head and tossing it at you. You snatched the material from the air, holding it close to your chest and resisting the urge to press your nose into the soft fabric. Jean tugged his pants and boots off, before wading into the water and dipping beneath its surface. You watched as he rose to breathe, all the air in your body quickly vanishing at the sight of the him. Beads of water rolled from his hair, over the sharp edges of his jaw and across his chest. You felt flushed with fever as one disappeared into the light patch of hair that ran from his belly button and into his boxers.   
“Do you want me to turn around?” Marco distracted you from your ogling, though the mischievous little smirk on his face spoke volumes. You nodded in response, unbuttoning your own shirt and slipping it off your shoulders. Marco followed Jean’s lead while his back was to you, quickly stripping to his boxers and waiting patiently for you to give him the okay to turn around. You wanted to press your lips to a smattering of freckles that bloomed across the muscles of his shoulder blades. 

When it came to the boys, your boys really, lust was the first feeling you came to accept. Both were beautiful, young and strong and full of life. So when it came to remembering your relationship, it was easy to accept your wanting them. Feelings of affection were harder to come to terms with, after all they were still relatively unknown to this new you. Their love for you was overwhelmingly apparent, though they hadn’t said the actual words since your accident, every act of care practically screamed ‘(Y/N), We love you!’ Whether or not they used the “L” word was irrelevant, their actions proved that much. 

When you thought about it too hard, your headaches would come back, so for now you were content with wanting them, and liking them. Liking them _a lot._

You quickly unclipped your bra before tugging Jean’s black shirt overhead. It was still slightly warm from use, its hem brushing your mid-thighs. You unbuttoned your pants, shimmying them down your legs and over your feet, before tapping Marco on the shoulder. 

He turned to you, quickly wrapping both arms beneath your bottom and hoisting you up. You placed your hands over his shoulders as he carried the two of you into the water, shivering when your toes broke through its cool surface. Marco waded towards the deepest part of the water, which met him mid-chest, where Jean was waiting. Slowly, he let you down and pulled his arms away.

Instinctively, you took a few steps forward before it hit you. For the first time in months it didn’t hurt you to stand on your own. The water wrapped around you, effectively lightening most of your body weight. You stretched your legs to their full height, eyes burning, choking on joy and relief. You slipped your open hands through the water, studying its surface as the first of your tears blossomed into soft ripples as they fell. 

Jean and Marco watched you intently, silent and unmoving. You slowly bent down, sucking in a breath and dipping beneath the water’s surface. You kept your eyes closed in the quiet dark, and held your breath as long as you could. For months pain was all you knew, and this respite... It was too much.

Finally resurfacing, you kept your head down as your chest heaved, lungs desperately seeking oxygen. You stuttered out a thank you, overwhelmed by relief. You reached for Jean, tugging him towards you gently when you felt the warmth of his hand in your own. He threaded your fingers together as his free hand rose to lift your chin, face softening when your watery eyes met his own. He leaned forward slowly, eyes questioning as his lips moved closer to your own. When he was confident you wouldn’t turn away, he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss. When he pulled back, his eyes were shining in a fashion much like your own. It was the first time his touch hadn’t incited a vision. 

“M-Marco,” you called, whipping your head around to find him watching you with an awed expression. When you reached your free hand towards him, Marco moved as quickly as the water would allow before cradling your face in his large, rough hands and kissing you with force. You clutched at his wrist and kissed back, feeling Jean’s fingers tighten around your own where you were still connected. 

In the rush of the moment you felt it all: the pain of your accident, the confusion, the love you’d been somehow keeping at bay these long months, it all came rushing into you. It was too much, all of it and you whimpered brokenly against Marco’s plush lips. He pulled back with a fearful expression on his handsome face, terrified that he had somehow caused you more pain. 

“Do you remember (Y/N),” Jean asked, “Can you finally remember us?” You whipped around to face him. His eyes were bright and warm, a wide grin stretched across his face as a lone tear rolled into the corner of his mouth.

“-Jean,” Marco began, but it was too late. The spell was broken.

You pulled your hands free from them, taking a tiny step away and watching as Jean’s smile fell just a little bit. 

“I...I can’t,” you stuttered, “I don’t.” Your words rung with finality. Sure you remembered the way you felt about them, but it wasn’t enough, feelings weren’t enough, you wanted to _know_. You wanted to understand it all. You didn’t care about the doctor’s orders. If the boys really loved you, they would tell you the truth. You were done with being in the dark and it was time you demanded the answers. 

Jean’s mouth set in a grim line as Marco placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. 

“Tell me about the accident,” you demanded, feeling your anger rise. 

“(Y/N), you know we can’t do that,” Marco began, “Hanji and the medics agree tha-” 

“-I don’t give a fuck!” You screamed, “Tell me right now! Tell me right now or we’re done, I don’t want anything else to do with you!”

“That’s rich coming from you! You’re the one who needs our help, remember?” Jean practically snarled at you. 

“Oh yeah?!” You bellowed, “Well I’ll also be the one who’s just fine without you! I have no fucking idea who you are to me and it’ll be easy to keep it that way.” Marco and Jean looked taken aback and, frankly, brokenhearted but you continued on: 

“Take me back to the infirmary so I can forget you properly.” And with that you were sure your sort of- relationship was effectively ended. 

It was quiet for a few long minutes. You listened to the sound of the river flowing, of the wind moving through the trees, of Jean drawing a labored breath through his parted lips. 

“Wait, (Y/N),” Marco mumbled, looking away from you, “Wait... Just, we’ll tell you okay? Just please don’t say that.” His voice cracked weakly and you started to think that maybe you were the worst person on the planet. 

You started to apologize, you wanted to apologize, after all being away from them wasn’t want you truly wanted, but the promise of answers kept you silent. So, with their help of course, you all silently made your way back to headquarters.

* * *

They didn’t come to see you for _days._ Since the night you’d asked for their help, you hadn’t spent more than a few hours away from at least one of time. You knew you’d made a huge mistake that afternoon out in the clearing. You didn’t realize how much you’d come to rely on their presence, how much you loved being around them, how much you loved them in general. You only meant to scare them into telling you about the accident, not to sever all ties with them. Nights spent waiting for them were long and dreamless. The days that followed were slow, lonely. Your headaches returned in full force without their comforting presence.Hell even Hanji expressed disappointment in you after you’d told her what happened. Basically, you fucked up, and royally. 

You couldn’t stop thinking about the way Jean and Marco looked when you saw them last and, _shit,_ if you didn’t miss them like crazy. 

In fact, your time alone made one fact abundantly clear: you didn’t care if you couldn’t remember your old relationship, you wanted a new one. With them. 

When your separation hit the one week mark you were so close to begging Hanji for her help, it took all of your will power not to grovel at her feet. That night, when she brought your dinner, you tried your best to sound casual when asking if she’d seen your boys. 

“Oh (Y/N),” she cooed, “I’m sorry, but I can’t fix this for you.” You asked her to leave you then, appetite gone and heart aching. You were tired of crying and hurting and feeling guilty and damn them for not coming to visit you after they’d promised to tell you the truth. You’d rehearsed your apology so many times, it was driving you insane. Pushing your tray out of your lap, you tried to lift yourself from bed and into your chair. Being cooped up in the infirmary wasn’t helping your mental state, you needed fresh air. But you miscalculated just how much strength you needed, lost grip of the chair’s back and tumbled helplessly onto the floor. In your stumbling, you knocked the edge of your try over and sent your dinner cascading to the floor with you.

Bruised and broken on the stone floor, you began sniffling softly, trying your damnedest to keep your tears and bay. The sound of the infirmary door opening sent panic coursing through you; couldn’t you have just one minute to collect yourself? 

“Holy shit, (Y/N), what did you do?” Jean, of-fucking-course he was here now. “Don’t cry, okay?” He continued, “Please, don’t, I’ll help you, just please.” You watched him make his way over to you from your place on the floor, Marco soon following. 

Together they helped you to sit on the edge of your bed, clearing the mess of food and broken glass from the floor. 

“Thank you,” you called out to them, trying your best to muster all of your bravery and deliver that well-rehearsed apology. You grew frustrated as they continued to fuss over you, checking your for injuries, making sure you hadn’t aggravated any of the old ones. “I’m fine,” you assured them, “Please stop, just sit down. I really have to say somethi-”

“-Don’t apologize,” Marco cut you off, “It’s our fault. I’m sorry, (Y/N). _We’re_ sorry.”

“Marco, please, just listen to me. About last week, I-” you felt yourself getting choked up, “-I didn’t mean it, any of it. I want to be with you, **both** of you, and... And it doesn’t matter if I can’t remember because we can remember new things and, God this isn’t coming out right, but please, _please_ forgive me.” You sobbed out the last few words. Well, so much for your little speech. “Please, I just.. None of it matters,” you were crying in earnest now, “P-Please tell me you can forgive me-”

“-(Y/N), (Y/N) stop,” Marco quickly knelt before you, sliding his hands into your soft tresses and pressing kisses to your tear stained cheeks. “It’s all right, everything’s all right.” Jean moved to sit beside him, before resting his chin on top of your head and wrapping you and Marco in his arms. He pressed kisses onto the crown of your head. 

“-I didn’t mean it,” you started again, “I-”

“-Shhh,” Jean quieted you, “We know.” The three of you sat silently for a moment as you tried to gain control of your emotions before Jean started speaking again, “We talked to Hanji, by the way, about the accident, and we think we’ve figured out a way to help you remember.”

You nodded slowly, before Marco added: “If it doesn’t work we’ll tell you anyway, promise. After that you can decide if you really can forgive us.”

Once you’d calmed down, Marco and Jean helped you into your chair, out of the building, across the training fields and back into woods, back to the site that had caused you all so much pain.

* * *

It was only when you were deep into the forest that you realized Jean was carrying two sets of maneuver gear. You hadn’t been strapped up since the medics told you they cut you out of your own harness; what was left of it anyway. From your place on Marco’s back, you watched Jean marched forward with grim determination, like a man marching knowingly towards his death. You knew without looking that Marco’s face held a similar expression; you gripped him more tightly and buried your face into the side of his neck. This was all too much; did you really want to know the truth after all?

When they finally stopped, it was before the trunk of a massive tree. You couldn’t tell just how far up it reached, neck craning up to study its branches while Marco leaned you against its trunk to strap up. You heard the boys clicking their gear into place, before one of them snuck a harness over your own legs, and attached you to his waist with a carabiner. You turned your head to find Jean tugging at your straps to test the buckles, before tugging you closer to him and up into his arms. You wrapped your arms and legs around him tightly, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach. 

“Ready?” Marco asked, attaching a second carabiner to you and Jean’s waists, assuring your connection. You studied the tree again; about twelve feet up, one of its larger branches was split and barely hanging on. Even higher still you saw a few tangled wires of 3D gear wrapped tightly around a thin branch. For whatever reason, the site made you shudder. 

“Ready,” you echoed. Jean shot off his wires and up you shot. You kept your eyes closed and clung to him, quaking gently in his arms as he came to a halt. You were never scared of using your gear before, but right now you felt about ready to throw up. The three of you were dozens of feet in the air. You craned your neck to look around, noticing that you were only a few feet above the nearly broken branch, the one that was tangled in wires. From your place above it you saw that one of the wires, one that was hanging limply by itself, was still fastened to part of harness. The rest of it looked like it had been cut away-

“We were just playing around after training,” Marco began, “Racing and stuff.” 

“We did that all the time,” You added, unsure of how you came to know such information. Jean tightened his free arm around you, practically crushing you to his chest.

“Mmm hmm, and you were winning,” Marco paused to smile at that and it made you feel warm. “And you and Jean were yelling and teasing each other. Both of us pushed you to go faster. And... And-”

“-Wait... Wait,” you growled out, bringing a hand up to caress the scar on the back of your head, feeling the makings of a terrible headache brewing. Marco and Jean looked pained. “I feel like I can remember... Let me just, _ow shit_ , just let me try.” 

Marco swung closer, softly holding the side of your neck in his palm, as his thumb smoothed over your jawline. Jean used the hand holding you to tug your shirt up and press his calloused fingers against the bare skin of your back. Your head was surging, your stomach rolling, but no visions came.

“It isn’t working,” groaning, you tried not to be sick from the pain in your head.

“Try to relax,” Jean ordered, before lowering the both of you towards the wire-wrapped branch. Marco quickly followed suit, caressing the side of your face again. Without thinking, you reached one of your arms out blindly, caught hold of the dangling wire and gripped it tightly. You squeezed your eyes shut, the images flooding you quickly and-

_“(Y/N), WATCH OUT!” Marco bellowed from behind you. You were moving so quickly through the trees, you could barely hear him yelling over the rush of wind around you. Before his words even had a chance to sink in, you slammed into something so hard, it felt like all of the bones in your body had broken. The force of the crash sent you ricocheting backwards, and you felt a hard body connect forcefully with your own._

_The second crash, though less forceful than the first one, dislodged both of your wires from the trees and you began careening towards the ground. Whoever was tangled with you couldn’t stop the fall either, as the two of you began shrieking wildly, hearts in your throats and facing certain death._

_Jean watched in horror as you and Marco began to plummet towards the ground and, in a last ditch effort, shot himself forward to crash against the two of you and stop the fall. He caught hold of Marco, shot off his gear and prayed it would stop you. The wire lodged itself into a thin branch, yanking Jean and Marco backwards. They were definitely hurt bad, but the force stopped their fall. You kept sailing downwards until the tangled mess of you and Marco’s wires snapped tight, and you bounced wildly on the line and eventually swung to a stop._

_The three of you dangled loosely together from a single wire and a single branch, which creaked in protest under your weight. Jean’s single wire kept the three of you from plummeting to your death. He and Marco were tangled together, while you swayed roughly five feet below them._

_“Everyone okay?” Marco asked, sounding pained. You didn’t really know how to answer him. From where you were, you could tell one of Jean’s arms was either dislocated or broken. Both of them were covered in cuts and welts that would certainly bruise. Marco had a gash that was bleeding over his left eye. Neither of them could see the top of the single wire but it was stretched to its breaking point._

_You wondered how long the wire could hold the three of you._

_You knew the wire couldn’t hold the three of you for much longer._

_You knew the wire was strong enough to hold the two of them while they waited for help to arrive. Someone had to have heard the screaming; surely help was on its way._

_You remembered the small switch blade you kept tucked into your boots._

_“Someone should be along to help you soon,” you shouted from your place below them. Up above, the branch holding all of you continued to sag, “I’m sure the wire can hold the two of you.” You reached into your boot, ignoring the ache of what felt like broken bones._

_“Jean, Marco, I love you very much.” You couldn’t cry, not now, you had to do this for them._

_“Oi, (Y/N), what are you talking about?” Jean grunted, “What are you doing?” Marco stared down at you, frowning, trying to connect the dots._

_“You’re gonna be okay,” you continued, watching as the branch above began to splinter. You flicked the blade open, sliding its sharpened end beneath the straps of your harness._

_“What the fuck are you doing (Y/N)?” Jean screamed at you, “STOP! Are you fucking crazy, you’re gonna fall!” His amber eyes blazed with fear and confusion. “What are you doing, baby?! Stop, please (Y/N), stop! Marco grab her! Pull her up!”_

_“I’m sorry,” you said, resisting the urge to yelp as another one of your straps broke loose,“But the wires can only hold so much weight. I love you.”_

_Marco had finally caught on, and teary-eyed, began hoisting you up by the tangles that held you to them. He too was begging you to stop, to wait, assuring you’d that you’d be fine, “I love you, (Y/N), please!”_

_Jean hadn’t stopped screaming at you for one second, but you couldn’t listen to him. If you stopped, they’d die and they couldn’t fucking die._

_Only two straps left. The wire was still holding. They could make it._

_You dropped lower, dangling precariously by one leg. You brought the blade up and then you weren’t dangling anymore._

_Now you’re flying, your body obeying laws of gravity, as you watch Marco and Jean grow smaller overhead. Not once since you’ve fallen have they stopped screaming your name._

_You feel your body slam into another branch on the way down, feel the pain of the crash surging through you, hear the crack of your bones against the forest floor and then nothing-  
_   


When you finally come to there are tears in your eyes, Jean and Marco are safe, feet planted firmly on the floor.

“I remember, I remember!” You sob, clinging to Jean, tugging Marco towards to the two of you. They hold you firmly in their strong arms; Jean is crying softly against your neck, his tears so hot they almost burn you. You reach one arm behind you to fist your hand in Marco’s hair, crushing him to you. 

“Why would you do that, huh!?” Jean snaps, “You’re so fucking stupid, baby, why would you do that?!”

For once, Marco doesn’t scold him. Instead the three of you sink to the ground, gripping each other fiercely, afraid to let go.

* * *

That night, once you’d gathered yourselves enough to make the trek home, Marco and Jean had been unwilling to part with you. Luckily, you were still the infirmary’s only patient, so the three of you pushed two beds together and climbed in.

That night, as you remapped their bodies, everything felt new and familiar. It was sweet and tender and perfect. You woke, held. 

Jean was behind, snoring softly into your hair. Marco cradled you against his bare chest, still asleep, so you reached up to stroke his cheek and slide your thumb over his bottom lip. You leaned forward and placed a light kiss there. Jean grunted, his arm around your waist squeezed tighter. 

“I’m sorry I forgot you,” you whispered, brushing Marco’s bangs back.

“Just don’t do it again,” he answered, that big faker, a warm smile unfolding on that beautiful face. 

“Never,” you moved down to kiss one of his dimples, “I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY JESUS ITS BEEN A YEAR. I am so so sorry to everyone that has been waiting on this story, I can’t begin to tell you what my life has been like in that time. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, you mean the world to me  
> SNK belongs to Isayama 
> 
> Also there will be a bonus sexy chapter on AO3 , I just didn’t think it suited the ending so I left it out for now. AO3 account FuzzyCrayon
> 
> Feel free to let me know if there are typos. SO sorry babes <3

**Author's Note:**

> SNK and all the babes belong to Isayama. 
> 
> Thanks always for reading <3 Comments/Faves/Typo Spots are always appreciated.  
> (I’m trying my best not to take 17 years between updates)
> 
> Stay beautiful <3


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